A Merry Sherlolly Christmas
by Sherlockian87
Summary: A collection of Sherlolly one-shots based on Christmas songs :) The rating will be ranging from Teen to Mature (I'll mention the rating in each one), and the stories will range from fluffy to angsty (sorry!)
1. Let it Snow!

**Have some winter Sherlolly fluff! :D**

**Rating: Mature**

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><p>Let it Snow!<p>

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><p><em>Oh the weather outside is frightful<em>_  
><em>_But the fire is so delightful__  
><em>_And since we've got no place to go__  
><em>_Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!_

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><p>Molly and Sherlock were lying side by side on the sofa of 221B, curled up beneath a blanket, both entirely naked. A fire had been lit, the soft glow from it filling the room with warmth and light, but it had started to die down and neither one of them had bothered to get up and place more logs upon it to keep it going.<p>

Sherlock was rather preoccupied at the moment, busying his mouth with leaving several dark marks upon Molly's neck. She was a bit preoccupied as well, reveling in the attention that Sherlock was giving her skin, but also looking out the window watching the snowflakes fall. The progression of the falling snow had increased within the passed couple of minutes.

"Do stop fidgeting Molly." Sherlock had placed his hand on her shoulder, holding her down as she struggled to sit up.

"I should get going ... before the snow gets worse." She tried to say this in a firm manner but it ended up coming out sounding rather tentative.

"Mmmm … nope." He popped the 'p' before returning to nuzzling the back of her neck, directly below her ear, "You're not going anywhere tonight. There is perfectly adequate space for two in my bed."

Molly let out a soft giggle before she turned her entire body in order to face him, her breasts brushing up against his chest. As she brought her arms up around his shoulders she smiled up at him, hooking her leg over his hip, "In that case, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!" She sang out.

He chuckled as he splayed his hand out over the small of her back pressing her close up against him before kissing her deeply.

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><p><em>The fire is slowly dying<em>  
><em>And my dear we're still good-by-ing<em>  
><em>But as long as you love me so<em>  
><em>Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!<em>

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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**Let me know what you think! ;)**


	2. Baby It's Cold Outside!

**It has only just recently come to my attention that this song is actually quite creepy ... when you really listen to the words! What the hell was the writer(s) thinking? I don't know, perhaps at the time it appeared more innocent ... but now with all the date rape shit ... and date rape drugs ... UGHHH! Anyway, looking beyond that you will not find any sort of that nastiness here in my little story. I'm only using the song for the fact that it mentions it being "cold out." Hehe ;) Enjoy!**

**Rating: Mature**

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><p>Baby It's Cold Outside<p>

_I really can't stay - Baby it's cold outside  
>I've got to go away - Baby it's cold outside<br>This evening has been - Been hoping that you'd drop in  
>So very nice - I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice<em>  
>-<p>

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><p>"Where the hell are my pants?" Sherlock all but growled as he stomped about Molly's bedroom.<p>

She couldn't keep herself from giggling at the sight of The World's Only Consulting Detective wandering about her bedroom entirely naked. Not to mention what the cool air in the room was doing to a certain part of his extremities.

She was lying upon her bed, her head propped up by her arm, trying her best to regain her mental facilities after Sherlock had all but shagged her into the mattress, twice. How he was able to move about her room so soon after having such mind-blowing sex was beyond her.

"Why not go without them?" She suggested as he continued to move items of clothing (hers) from place to place as he searched.

He spun about facing her, giving her a rather delicious eyeful, "Normally I would, but it's been rather bitterly cold as of late."

"Mmm." This was all she managed to get out, her gaze locked on his bobbing semi-hard cock.

Sherlock was entirely oblivious to this, far too focused on finding his beloved pants, "Where could you have tossed them to?" He ran his hands through his hair, mussing his curls.

His back was now to her, allowing her another delicious view, this time of his arse. With a frustrated sigh Molly flopped back onto the pillows, glaring up at the ceiling.

"Why not just stay? It is ... as you mentioned ... bitterly cold out. Wait until morning? It won't be quite so cold then."

Sherlock was gathering up the rest of his clothing, seeming to have given up on finding his pants, "And risk being seen? Not your wisest suggestion as of late."

Molly shot up, the sheet falling away from her, as she sent a hard glare towards Sherlock. The cool air tickled across her breasts, causing her nipples to pebble slightly.

"And what's so horrible about it if someone does see you? We can't keep this up for forever. We're bound to slip up somewhere ... either that or we'll become exhausted with lying to everyone." Molly's glare faded away as quickly as it came, replaced by a weary look.

Sherlock dropped the clothes he had been holding and walked over to the foot of the bed. Molly was staring down at the duvet, unaware of his strong gaze upon her.

"Is it too much for you? Keeping our relationship a secret?"

Molly nodded, "It was fun at first. I rather enjoyed sneaking about ... but ... keeping a secret is hard work ... it's tiring ... I should know, I had to keep one for two whole years."

He got up onto the bed, kneeling in front of her. When she wouldn't look at him he took her face in his hands. She slowly raised her eyes to his.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He questioned her.

She gave a slight shrug, "I didn't know how. I wasn't sure what you're reaction would be."

Sherlock gave a slow sigh, his gaze softening as he continued to look down at her, "It will be nice to have everyone know."

"Nice?"

"Convenient. You could finally spend the night at Baker Street, although Mrs. Hudson probably won't appreciate that. Will have to buy her some ear plugs."

"You don't object then? To telling everyone?"

"No. I've been thinking about it for some time now. It will of course be rather a nuisance at first ... the congratulations, John's teasing..." Sherlock let out another sigh, "I suppose I'll just have to grin and bear it!"

Molly let out a laugh, bringing her hands up to lay them over his, "So you'll stay? You won't go?"

He shook his head, "I won't go."

He released her from his hold and ever so slowly eased her back down onto the mattress. She moved her hands until her arms were draped over his shoulders, her fingers in his curls. He pushed the sheet away, revealing the rest of her naked body, before hovering his own over hers.

She smiled as she brushed her lips gently against his, "Good ... because the bed is warm ... and I'm warm."

He smiled as well, nestling himself between her slightly spread legs before easing his now fully-hard cock into her welcoming wetness, "Mmm ... warm indeed!" He murmured, before kissing her.

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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**Comments mean the world to me! They keep me inspired and make me want to keep writing ;)**


	3. All I want for Christmas is You

**Rating: Teen**

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><p>All I want for Christmas is You<p>

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><p><em>I just want you for my own<em>_  
><em>_More than you could ever know__  
><em>_Make my wish come true__  
><em>_All I want for Christmas is you_

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><p>Molly had the tendency to hum to herself while she was working. More often than not it was under her breath, barely audible to most people. Sherlock Holmes was not most people. Usually such an inane thing would annoy him, if John was doing it Sherlock would have told him straight out and put an end to it directly. But such was not the case with Molly Hooper. He rather liked her humming. Although he would never admit this out loud! He could barely even admit it to himself.<p>

At the moment she was humming a Christmas song. He deduced it as being one of those ridiculous pop ones, if the movement of her head in time to her humming was any sign. He knew that she didn't like many pop Christmas songs, enjoying the more traditional ones instead.

He was sat at his microscope, studying a skin sample, but found that discovering which song it was that she was humming to be of much more importance. What was this madness?

Molly was entirely oblivious to all of this as she continued to look over her paperwork. Normally she would do this in her office at her desk but Sherlock had asked her to stay in the lab with him. Knowing that he liked to have someone around that he could talk to (and not exactly get any replies from), she stayed. The humming had only started a short while ago.

Sherlock straightened his posture, eyeing her curiously. It was only moments later that he silently cursed himself. He knew exactly what song it was that she was humming, and that was all John's fault. Well actually, it was Mary's fault.

A few nights ago she had brought over a DVD and had all but forced both him and John to watch it with her. Isn't that what girl friends were for? Throughout the duration of the film he had managed to stay in his Mind Palace, but curse it all that blasted song at the end had managed to slip in! And now Molly was humming it. Molly was humming it and he rather enjoyed hearing her hum it. In fact, he had recently come to find that he rather enjoyed many different things that Molly did. And the fact that the words to the song were true ... he was certain for both her, and for him, was quite convenient.

He cleared his throat, taking away the slide and storing it properly. Molly was still humming, wrapped up in her paperwork, not noticing that Sherlock was moving towards her.

"Mo-lly."

Damn it all! His voice had cracked!

The humming came to an abrupt end as her pen stilled and she looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, "Yes? All done then?" She peered around him at the microscope he had been using.

"Ye-es."

He coughed slightly, wondering if he was coming down with something, which was ridiculous, he never got sick! He stopped his inward rambling noting that Molly was now looking up at him with a worried gaze.

"Everything all right?"

He cleared his throat, "Err yes. Fine. Perfectly fine! I'm off now … back to Baker Street."

Her expression fell slightly, but she quickly replaced it with a far too-cheery smile, "All right. See you later then."

He nodded, turning on his heel before he strode over to his Belstaff and pulled it on. Just as he was doing up his scarf he spun about and faced Molly. She had returned to her paperwork but was no longer humming.

"Oh by the way," He began, "I agree with the words to the song. Well, not exactly all of them, but the important ones."

Molly blinked at him, "What song?"

Sherlock gave a weary roll of his eyes, "The one you were humming!" With that said he strode from the lab leaving behind a very confused Molly.

Not five minutes later her text tone chirped, snapping her out of her reverie. She grabbed up her mobile and saw that it was from Sherlock.

Come to Baker Street after your shift and I'll explain in further detail. – SH

You may want to ask someone to check in on your cat. – SH

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><p><em>All I want for Christmas is You<em>

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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**;)**

**Anyone get the movie I'm referencing to? It features Martin Freeman! :D **


	4. Merry Christmas, Darling

**Sorry, this gets a bit angsty.**

**Rating: Teen**

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><p>Merry Christmas, Darling<p>

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><p><em>Merry Christmas darling<em>_  
><em>_We're apart that's true__  
><em>_But I can dream and in my dreams__  
><em>_I'm Christmas-ing with you_

_I've just one wish__  
><em>_On this Christmas Eve__  
><em>_I wish I were with you_

Molly Hooper usually enjoyed Christmas time. Yes, it did always make her a little bit sad, since it reminded her of her parents who were both gone. But still she liked the music, the decorations, and the pretty fairy lights. But not this year. Not so much. Not even the first snowfall had made her happy.

She hadn't bothered to bring out her box of Christmas baubles, not wanting to even get a tree. She did her best to ignore the Christmas songs that were playing in the shops.

When the invitation to the Annual St. Bart's Christmas Party arrived, she declined. It was convenient really, knowing that no one would question her; having a dead friend (a lover) was a perfect excuse. Yes, she was still grieving, albeit that he wasn't actually dead, just gone.

She had always known that it would be difficult, especially since she was the only one of the few who was aware of the fact that he was very much alive. Her grieving may not be for the dead, but still she grieved.

She missed his voice, that deep baritone that always sent chills down her spine.

She missed his touch, his violinist fingers that knew exactly how and where to press against her, at times playing Mozart across her body.

She missed his lips, they could be so soft and gentle when pressed against her own, but also hard and desperate when he was in a passionate mood (which was more often than not).

She missed his skin, the way it felt when his entire body was pressed up against her, her fingertips brushing over his scars.

But most of all she missed how he made her feel, especially when they were alone together. She felt as if they were the only two people in the world. And now that he was gone, she had never felt so lonely in all of her life.

It was Christmas Eve now. She could hear carolers out on the streets, and sounds of the party on the floor above her flat. Meena had invited her over to her place, so that she wouldn't be alone, but Molly had said no. As difficult as the loneliness felt, she knew that it would be even harder to fake happiness and interest in what was going on around her.

Settling down with a glass of red wine on her sofa (no cheery Christmas drink for her!), she turned on her telly and began to flip through the channels, desperately hoping to find something, anything that didn't have to do with Christmas. Within minutes she had turned the telly off and tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

Toby came and curled up on top of her as she pulled a blanket over her legs. She could feel his vibrations of his purr through her body, soothing her. Grabbing up her wine glass she took a few slow sips. It wasn't until a few minutes later that she realized that she was crying.

Furiously wiping away her tears she drank the rest of her wine and put down the empty glass. She was about to get up and make her way to her bedroom when she heard her text tone chirp. She grabbed up her mobile and saw that it was a text from Mycroft.

I have a message for you. – MH

He says Merry Christmas. – MH

And that he wishes the same as you. – MH

I suppose you'll understand his meaning. – MH

Molly's eyes filled with tears once more, in spite of the laughter she felt bubbling up inside of her. She quickly typed back a reply.

Thank you. – Mx

And Merry Christmas to you as well. – Mx

Yes, Molly still missed him, and she would continue to miss him until he returned home to her, but knowing that he was out there, feeling the same way made her heart feel a little bit lighter.

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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**I love Christmas, but it always tends to make me feel a bit sad and lonely because I don't have a significant other to spend it with. And I really love this song, but it always makes me sad as well. I thought that it would work with this idea. Sorry, if I made you sad!**


	5. O Christmas Tree

**This is quite a long one, doubt you all mind though, and there will be smut. Rather a slow-build towards it, with some teasing! Hehe ;)**

**Rating: Mature**

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><p>O Christmas Tree<p>

_O_ _Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree__  
><em>_How lovely are thy branches!__  
><em>_O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree__  
><em>_How lovely are thy branches!__  
><em>_Your boughs so green in summertime,__  
><em>_Stay bravely green in wintertime.__  
><em>_O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree__  
><em>_How lovely are thy branches__!_

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><p>"Please Sherlock? Can we please get a Christmas tree?" Molly pleaded, opening her eyes wide – Bambi eyes he had heard them be described as.<p>

He would never admit it, to himself, to her, to anyone, that when she looked at him like that he couldn't say no to her. The majority of the time that wasn't exactly a bad thing and the best part of it was that she hadn't a single clue about the influence that she held over him. That gaze was merely a part of her genetic makeup, she wasn't trying to do it on purpose, and it just made him love her all the more.

"Fine." He exhaled, "We'll get a tree!"

Molly let out a sound of glee and stood on her tip toes to press a tender kiss against his lips. He would have gladly allowed the kiss to grow more heated if his fiancée hadn't insisted on pulling away from him.

"We should go now, before the weather gets worse!" Molly took his hand and gave him a gentle tug towards the door.

He followed after her quickly pulling on his Belstaff and scarf. Molly was busy buttoning up her coat when Sherlock stepped in front of her and began to wrap her scarf around her neck. She looked up at him and smiled. When he was finished he leaned down and kissed her, he could feel her smiling against his lips.

"Come on!" She stepped away from him and hurried down the steps.

The snow was falling steadily as they made their way outside of 221B. Molly held her mitten-covered hands up to catch the snowflakes while he hailed a cab.

"Ever catch snowflakes?" She asked him, directly before tilting back her head and sticking out her tongue.

Sherlock watched silently, before swallowing thickly. The sight of her tongue really shouldn't be having the effect that it was having on him, in public. At the moment all he wanted to do was take her into his arms, and return to their flat and their bed.

After catching a few of the flakes Molly pulled back in her tongue and closed her mouth, "Something the matter?" She was eyeing him, making him aware of the fact that he had clearly entered into 'buffering mode' as John liked to call it.

He mentally shook himself and cleared his throat, "No. Nothing's wrong."

She smiled as a cab pulled up. He opened the door for her and they slid inside. After she gave the driver the address she began to brush the snow off of her, she giggled when she saw that Sherlock's hair was dusted white. He reached up and ran his hands through his curls.

"Where exactly are you planning to find a tree, Molly?"

"At The Christmas Forest of course! Didn't you hear me give the address?"

He gave a noncommittal shrug, not exactly wanting to tell her that he hadn't been listening, instead he had been deep in his Mind Palace filing away the image of her standing in the falling snow, catching the flakes upon her tongue.

Once they arrived at their destination Molly's excitement began to grow. Sherlock merely shook his head, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. He never thought much of having a Christmas tree. He had grown up with them every year, and for the most part believed them to be a part of a silly tradition. What was the point of taking a tree from where it truly belonged, placing it indoors and covering it in ridiculous decorations and lights? He thought it rather cruel actually, to take a tree from its rightful place and allow it to slowly die.

But this made Molly happy, and making Molly happy was important to him. He had made her unhappy far too many times. That was of course quite a long time ago, and he was determined to make up for it; he had every intention of doing so for the rest of their lives.

"Sherlock! Look at this one!"

He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't realized that Molly had wandered off from him and was now standing in front of a large, snow-dusted tree. He strolled up to her, noting the glow upon her face, the faint tinge of red upon her cheeks and the tip of her nose due to the cold air.

"It's beautiful!" She breathed.

He forced himself to look away from her in order to study the tree that she had deemed beautiful. He eyed it warily.

"Is it too big though?" She was screwing up her mouth in that way that she had the tendency to do when she was worried about something.

"Mmm … where would we put it?" He instantly began to pull up the lay-out of their flat in his head, deciphering where this beast of a tree could go.

"Perhaps a smaller one than." Molly gave the sleeve of his coat a pull, when he took too long to respond.

He followed her blindly, continuing to sort out the flat, moving furniture from place to place, stumbling into her slightly when she stopped walking.

"Sherlock! Get out of your Mind Palace!"

She was glaring at him. He furrowed his brows, blinked a few times then turned his full attention to the tree she had stopped in front of. It was much smaller than the first one she had looked at.

"Aren't you going to deduce it? Tell me where it was chopped down?"

She was smirking at him. He narrowed his eyes at her, blinking away a snowflake as it fell onto his lashes.

"Not funny, Molly."

She giggled, "What do you think of it? This one might be a better fit."

"Mmm …" He turned towards her, dropping his head down so that he could place his mouth by her ear, "I know of something else that is an even better fit. A rather wonderfully tight fit."

"SHERLOCK!" She blushed bright red and he knew this time that it wasn't from the cold, he chuckled as she gave his arm a good swat, "We're tree shopping! We'll have none of that thank you!"

He began to pout as she moved away from him.

"This one?" She called out to him, shoving her hands into her coat pockets.

Her head was dusted with snow. She should have worn a hat. His brain became flooded with images of her wearing his Deerstalker, his Deerstalker and nothing else. Damnit!

"Sherlock."

Molly's hands were upon her hips, her head tilted to one side. She had that look, the one where she knew exactly what he was thinking. He flashed her his most innocent grin, which was really in fact not innocent at all.

"You're unbelievable!"

He sighed, and made his way over to her.

"This one?" He questioned.

"I think so yes. It's not too big, and not too small, and if you dare to make some kind of remark about that I will leave you here! And you will be sleeping on the sofa tonight."

Sherlock muttered beneath his breath before finally saying, "I think this one is a good a choice Molly. We can put it in front of the right window. Not the left one, you know how I like to stand in front of it and look out while I play my violin."

Molly smiled, "Yes, I do know, which is why I purposely cleared everything out from in front of the right window."

Sherlock peered down at her before smiling himself, "Can we leave now?" he took a few quick glances around at the people milling about, "The longing to deduce all of these pathetic fools is becoming too great, I won't be able to hold myself back much longer!"

She let out a weary sigh, "You really are rather pathetic."

"It's only because I want to get you back home, and back into our bed." He stated matter-of-factly.

He had dropped his head down again, but this time only to peer closely at her and also to make sure that no one else around them heard what he said. She was biting down on her bottom lip, her pupils beginning to dilate.

"You insufferable man!"

He flashed her a Cheshire Cat grin. Within minutes they had paid for the tree and had it scheduled for delivery. They were told it should arrive later that day.

"Absolutely insufferable!" Molly huffed as they got into a cab, "You do this on purpose don't you? So that I don't make you go shopping with me ... that's what this is ... isn't it?" Her tone was serious, tinged with a tiny hint of anger.

"No! That's not it at all. Molly, I was gone for three whole days, so excuse me for not exactly wanting to surface from the bedroom until both you and I were entirely satisfied."

"Oh ... I was quite satisfied after the first time ... although the second shag was quite nice."

"MOLLY!"

They had been speaking in hushed voices, not exactly wanting the driver to hear, but Sherlock had just spoken her name rather loudly as he turned and looked at her, only to find that she was smirking at him.

"I was just teasing you, you cheeky git!"

Sherlock began to mutter beneath his breath as he leaned back into the cushion, crossing his arms over his chest. Molly started to laugh.

"Oh cheer up you daft man! If your mother hadn't texted you about her impromptu decision to pop in for a visit we would still be in bed now. But once she left I saw that it was snowing, and I had heard that we were supposed to get a decent amount of it tonight, so I thought that perhaps we should go and get a tree. We were already cleaned up and dressed; I thought it was best to take advantage. And now that that's finished ... you are quite free to take me back to bed and ... have your way with me. If you still desire to do so."

Sherlock hadn't looked at her the entire time she had been talking, but when she finished he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was smiling widely at him.

"And you have the nerve to call me insufferable!" He spat out.

Molly would have thought that he was angry with her, if it hadn't been for the faint twitch at the corners of his mouth; a sure sign that he was fighting back a smile. Taking note of this she laughed again.

"Of course, if you don't want to I could always just start to bring out my boxes of decorations. There are always ornaments to untangle; I'm horrible at storing them away that will definitely take some time. It always turns into a bit of a mess, usually takes me at least a day to sort them all-"

"Absolutely not." He cut in.

"Absolutely not what?"

"You are going to do no such thing. As soon as we return to the flat we are going straight back to bed."

"Oh we are, are we?" She crossed her arms, mimicking his pose.

"Yes."

"What if I don't want to?"

He let out a snort, "You clearly do. You're pupils are fully dilated, and I can tell your heart is racing I don't even need to check your pulse," His voice dropped lower, to almost a whisper, "as well as the fact that I can practically smell your arousal. Don't deny it; I know you're wet already." He gave her a smug look.

She blinked rapidly then exhaled loudly. He was positive that he heard her swear beneath her breath. He flashed her a cheeky grin; two could play at this game.

The rest of the ride back to Baker Street was spent in silence. Molly chose to stare out the car window while Sherlock continued to smile to himself. It wasn't until he suddenly felt her hand upon his upper thigh that his eyes widened.

"Molly!" He hissed as she slowly slid her hand further upwards until her fingers were able to brush over his crotch.

When she heard his sharp intake of breath she let out a low chuckle. Sherlock practically growled when she brushed her fingers over him again, he was hardening beneath her touch. He quickly took a hold of her hand, pulling it away; she still hadn't turned her head from the window. It was at that very moment that the cab pulled up outside of 221B.

After paying the driver Sherlock stepped out of the car with a slight bit of difficulty. Molly continued to giggle, enjoying his obvious discomfort. The snow was starting to fall at a much faster rate, the flakes growing bigger.

"You'll pay for that." Sherlock all but growled as he unlocked the door and they stepped inside.

"Oh will I?"

Molly quickly slipped passed him and hurried up the stairs, continuing to laugh. Sherlock froze upon the landing, blinking rapidly for a smattering of seconds before following closely behind her.

"I think you'll have to catch me first!" She called out to him, disappearing into the flat.

He chuckled to himself, his laugh rumbling in his chest as he took off his coat and scarf, snowflakes fluttering to the floor. Molly's coat and scarf were already hanging up. How had she managed to do that so quickly? He spun about, searching for clues as to where she had gone.

"Are you going to come and find me or not?"

Her voice sounded as if it came from the bedroom, he began to move towards it when he heard a noise in the kitchen. He stepped in and found her standing near the sliding door that led to the main room. She let out a slight shriek when she noticed that her hiding spot had been found. She had always been a rather terrible hider. She fled through the open door and he followed her, she was really no match for his long strides.

"You're awful at this Molly!" He told her.

She shrugged in acceptance and darted behind his chair, "You still haven't caught me though!"

With a sigh he gazed towards the ceiling, feigning boredom. She hesitated, wondering what it was that he was exactly doing. That was when he pounced. Another shriek and he had her in his arms. He carried her to the sofa where they both collapsed upon it. She was giggling against his lips as he kissed her deeply. Her laughter quickly turned into a moan when he slipped both of his hands beneath her jumper to cup her breasts, massaging them through the fabric of her bra.

When they parted for air, both were panting. His forehead was resting against hers and they were staring into each others eyes. He felt her hands move to his waist. With one hand she cupped him through the fabric, whilst with the other she began to undo the button and the zip. He groaned slightly, his hardened cock straining against his trousers, the pleasure of her fingers squeezing him slightly almost too much to bear. Just as she was about to release him the doorbell rang.

"Ignore it." He hissed between gritted teeth.

She let out another soft laugh, slipping her hand between the opened zip and lightly touching him with her fingertips. Her hand was cold, and his length was hard and hot. Wrapping her fingers around him she was about to help slip his length out when the doorbell rang again.

Sherlock let out a frustrated groan as his forehead fell to her shoulder. The sound of Mrs. Hudson's voice drifted up the stairs. Molly rapidly pulled her hand out from his trousers.

"Sherlock, I think she's coming up here!"

He swore loudly before pushing himself up off of Molly and doing up his zip and button. Molly tugged down her jumper and they both stood up just as Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door.

"Hoo hoo!" She called out, before opening the door, "Sorry to disturb you dears, but there is a delivery man downstairs. He rang your bell apparently but you didn't answer so he rang mine. Did you get a tree?"

"It's here already?" Molly asked, she was standing directly in front of Sherlock, in order to not give poor Mrs. Hudson a heart-attack at the sight of his current predicament.

"Yes, Molly dear. Shall I have him come up?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Yes, please do."

Mrs. Hudson disappeared back down stairs.

"Damnit it, Molly."

She spun about and faced Sherlock. He was glaring at her, his arms crossed and a prominent pout upon his face.

"Oh stop it Sherlock … it will only take a few minutes, than we can go straight back to what we were … doing!" Molly palmed him through his trousers, his eyes fluttering closed, "Go hide yourself in the kitchen, don't need a stranger to know what we were up to prior to their arrival."

She heard him mutter, "Their unfortunate arrival," as he made his way towards the sliding door. He slid it shut and she knew that he was going to continue to pout until the delivery man was gone.

Molly heard him coming up the stairs. She brushed back her hair from her face, giving her jumper another tug as he entered the flat, with Mrs. Hudson following closely behind. He was carrying the tree as if it weighed nothing.

"Where would you like it miss?"

"Over here, in front of the window." Molly directed him.

He carried the tree over and placed it in the stand that Molly had set up earlier that day. Once he had the tree straight and tightened into the stand he unwrapped it and the room instantly filled with the scent of pine. Mrs. Hudson let out a soft exclamation of joy at the sight of it. Molly dug into her pocket and pulled out some money to tip the man. With a nod to her he hurried back down the stairs.

"Such a lovely tree, Molly dear!" Mrs. Hudson said to her.

Molly heard the sliding door open.

"Yes thank you for your input Mrs. Hudson, most appreciated, don't you have a Bridge game to prepare for?" Sherlock all but ushered her towards the door of the flat, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it firmly.

Molly was certain that she could hear her muttering about manners and needing to talk to his mother as she made her way down the stairs. With a shake of her head Molly turned her back on him and faced the tree. It was lovely, and it fit perfectly in front of the window. She could just make out the still-falling snow through the branches.

"Molly."

She didn't turn around, knowing that he was slowly approaching her from behind. When she felt his arms slip around her, his firm chest pressing against her back, she let out a contented sigh and leaned into him.

"Shall I make love to you, right here, in front of the tree?" He murmured as he brushed his nose along the shell of her ear.

Her only answer was a moan as he dropped his hand downwards and cupped her front, pressing his fingers against her sex through the fabric of her trousers; much in the same teasing way that she had done to him.

With a low growl he quickly spun her about so that they were facing each other. He tugged on her jumper and she lifted up her arms so that he could slip it off. His suit jacket soon followed. As he undid the clasp of her bra, she began to unbutton his shirt. Both fell to the floor. Shoes were toed off, and then their socks were removed. Their trousers soon followed, revealing that neither of them was wearing any pants. He could see that she was glistening wet for him, his cock giving a prominent twitch. When Molly reached her hand out to wrap it around his length he stopped her. She looked at him questioningly and he shook his head.

"Another time." He muttered.

She dropped her hand back down to her side and he stepped over to the sofa, grabbing a cushion. When he returned in front of her she gave him another questioning look.

"I want you on your knees," He explained, "Facing the tree. Kneel on this." He dropped the cushion to the floor.

A soft whimper escaped Molly's throat at the thought of what they were about to do; he had only ever taken her like this once before, and she had loved it. But that had been in their bedroom, to do it out in the open like this made it seem almost dirty, and yet she felt a rush of wet heat form between the apex of her thighs.

She did as he asked, kneeling before the tree, her arse on display for him. Her parted legs giving him a perfect view of how wet she was for him.

"God Molly!" He groaned.

She looked over her shoulder at him, her breaths growing heavier. He was holding his fully-erect cock in his hand, pumping it slightly. He kneeled directly behind her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her hips as he nudged at her opening with the tip of his erection.

Her head dropped down, both of them moaning in unison as he slid his entire length inside of her until his body was nestled against hers. He held himself still for several moments, allowing them to savour the sensation before he began to move.

He quickly settled himself into a steady rhythm, leaning his body against hers, so that he could move his hands forward and cup her breasts, massaging them and taking her nipples between his fingertips as he entered her again and again. She was moaning loudly now.

Suddenly he released her breasts and took a hold of her hips once more as he sat back on his haunches, bringing her with him so that they stayed connected. She moaned wildly at the sudden change of angle as he began to thrust up into her. She moved her hands back to cup his arse as he brought his hands back to her breasts as she began to move her body on top of him.

"Oh fuck, Sherlock!" She cried out.

"Touch your clit, Molly." He panted into her ear, continuing to pinch and roll her nipples with his fingers, "I know you want to."

She whimpered as she brought her hand forward, crying out once more as her fingers connected with her taut little nub. It only took several strokes of her finger before she was practically screaming his name as her climax hit. He let go of her breasts yet again, taking a tight hold of her hips so that he could thrust up into her hard, now desperate for his own release. His hips stuttered, pressing up against her as his own climax was reached, groaning her name into the back of her neck. Their bodies stilled, he wrapped his arms about her middle before they fell bonelessly to the floor. As their breathing slowly grew back to normal, Molly started to laugh softly.

She turned her body around to face him, loving the look of him directly after sex; his face flushed, his eyes still dilated. He had an eyebrow raised though, wondering what she could possibly find so amusing at a time like this.

"So much for taking me back to bed!" She taunted.

He rolled his eyes before tucking her body directly up against his, "That will happen … eventually … once I recover the use of my limbs."

She giggled again, "Shall we make this a yearly occurrence? A shag in front of the tree?"

Sherlock hummed softly, tilting his head in order to better angle his mouth against hers, "I don't object to it." He mumbled before pressing a kiss to her lips, "Just as long as there aren't so many interruptions next time."

Molly laughed out right as Sherlock rolled her onto her back, pressing a trail of kisses along her jaw line down to her throat. She moaned softly, gazing up at the tree as he continued to work his mouth further downwards, knowing that there would be many more Christmases for them, together.

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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	6. Silent Night

**Ok, so this turned out entirely different then I intended it too originally. I meant it to be short and pure Parent!lock fluff, but instead angst poured out of me. OOPS. I swear though, it turns fluffy at the end!**

**Rating: Teen**

* * *

><p>Silent Night<p>

_Silent night, Holy night__  
><em>_All is calm, all is bright__  
><em>_Round yon virgin, mother and child__  
><em>_Holy infant, so tender and mild__  
><em>_Sleep in heavenly peace,__  
><em>_Sleep in heavenly peace._

Sherlock Holmes had never believed himself to be a sentimental man. Instead convincing himself that sentiment was a chemical defect. He had always thought that love was a dangerous disadvantage.

That was until Molly Hooper had entered into his life. For years he had shot down her advances, knowing exactly how she felt about him; all too well aware that it was not just some silly crush but that she was in fact very much so in love with him. As to the how and why she loved him, he never would be able to fully understand.

It wasn't though until after his Fall, and the two years away, that he finally allowed himself to accept his own feelings for her. Upon his return, discovering that she was engaged, he realized that he was terrified of losing her for forever.

Of course, in typical Sherlock-fashion, he had to go and mess it all up by using drugs and faking an engagement to another woman. Now certain that she would never forgive him, and would surely hate him, he was surprised when he awoke in hospital with her asleep in a chair beside his bed.

She did forgive him.

She did still love him.

But now he was being sent away, for killing a man, and he would most likely not be returning.

Words were no longer left unspoken, but promises weren't able to be made. He left, with a lead weight in the pit of his stomach, having asked her to not waste her life waiting for his return, but also to not choose another man like Meat Dagger.

When Moriarty's face appeared all over every screen in London, Sherlock had never been happier to see the face of a man he so despised. As soon as he stepped off the plane, returning to English soil, he asked Mycroft to take him back to Bart's.

Yes, he needed to discover the source of the video, but right now seeing Molly was far more important. Upon arriving at the hospital he rushed down to the morgue. He found her in her office, looking over paperwork.

"Sherlock?" Her eyes widened in disbelief, "Are you here because of the video?"

He nodded and strode over to her, taking her into his arms as she stood up, "Yes. I'm not leaving England, I'm not leaving you." He kissed her deeply.

* * *

><p>A Year Later<p>

* * *

><p>Sherlock Holmes had never believed himself to be a sentimental man. Instead convincing himself that sentiment was a chemical defect. He had always thought that love was a dangerous disadvantage.<p>

Now, looking down at his wife and infant daughter sleeping upon their bed, he knew that he didn't believe any of that anymore. Toeing off his shoes and removing his Belstaff, scarf and suit jacket he sat himself upon the bed before tucking his body around the two people he loved most in the world.

He gently placed a kiss upon the downy head of his daughter before placing another kiss upon the lips of Molly Holmes née Hooper. She stirred slightly before opening up her eyes and peering sleepily up at him. She sighed happily, and smiled.

"Go back to sleep Molly, I'll be here when you wake up."

Her eyes fell closed, another happy sigh escaping her. His daughter stirred, curling towards his chest. He smiled down at her, quite certain that he had never before felt so happy.

_Sleep in heavenly peace._

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

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**:) Told you it got fluffy at the end! Heh …**

**Silent Night is probably my favourite Christmas song! I'm rather partial to the version by Chris Botti … beautiful! **


	7. Christmas Lights

**Rating: Teen**

* * *

><p>Christmas Lights<p>

-  
><em>Christmas night<br>Another fight  
>Tears we cried a flood<br>Got all kinds of poison in  
>Of poison in my blood<em>

_Took my feet  
>To Oxford street<br>Trying to right a wrong  
>"Just walk away", those windows say<br>But I can't believe she's gone_

_When you're still waiting for the snow to fall  
>It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all<em>  
>-<p>

It was a stupid thing for him to say. He should never have allowed those words to pass his lips. He had gotten so much better at holding in the cutting remarks, keeping at bay the cruel deductions. Normally all it would take was one look from her and he would shut up. But not this time. This time something happened, something snapped inside of him and he couldn't stop; the words came spewing out. And the second that they did, he regretted them.

Memories of that horrible Christmas party came flooding back to him. Where he had allowed his jealousy to blind him to what was directly before him; she hadn't dressed so particularly for someone else, she hadn't perfectly wrapped that gift for another man, it had all been done for him. And in return he had spoken awful words to her.

Now he had gone and done it again. And this time, this time she might not forgive him. This time she might truly be gone and never come back. He had always feared that this would happen, that she would discover that she did truly deserve so much better than him.

But he couldn't let that happen. He wasn't about to allow her to slip away from him so easily. He needed her. He was a better man with her in his life. And without her, that wasn't something he didn't want to think about.

So he left 221B, and went to the one place that he knew she would go to: Oxford Street. It would be crowded for sure, filled with jovial people (and some not so jovial) frantically finishing up their shopping. In spite of the crowds she loved the place; loved the decorations, and the shop windows. He knew he would find her there. He had to.

The streets were thick with people, but his height was an advantage. He peered over their heads, scanning for the sight of a bright multi-coloured scarf. Even in this mass of people he was certain that he could spot it.

He felt his heart give a jolt when his eyes alighted upon it. She was standing in front of her favourite shop window. He moved his way through the throngs of shoppers, not stopping until he reached her. When his reflection in the window joined hers, she spun about facing him.

"I'm sorry. Forgive me, please?"

She threw her arms about him, standing on tip toe to bury her face in his neck, "You're an absolute arse, but I still love you."

He tightened his hold on her, not caring in the slightest that they were standing in the middle of the pavement, where everyone could see. He was not one for public affection, but at the moment it didn't bother him. The only thing that was important right now was that she was back in his arms.

_-  
>Oh Christmas lights, keep shining on<br>-_

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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**I honestly think that a relationship between Molly and Sherlock would require quite a bit of work (but really what relationship doesn't?) Anyway, this song kept playing in my head and I ended up writing this out on my phone this morning because I couldn't get the idea off my mind. **


	8. Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

**I bring you another smutty one. This is slightly angsty as well.**

**Rating: Mature**

* * *

><p>Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)<p>

_Pretty lights on the tree__  
><em>_I'm watching them shine__  
><em>_You should be here with me__  
><em>_Baby please come home_

Molly had fallen asleep on the sofa; the only light in her flat from the soft glow of her Christmas tree. Toby was curled up at her feet. It was Christmas Eve, nearing midnight. She was dreaming of Sherlock, of what he had told her the night before he left to dismantle Moriarty's network.

The door to her flat quietly opened and a tall, dark figure stepped inside, closing the door just as quietly behind them. They removed their coat, brushing off the freshly fallen snow, before undoing their scarf. Spotting Molly asleep on the sofa they slowly approached her. Toby raised his head, blinking up at the stranger before realizing that this person wasn't a stranger at all. The cat let out a soft meow of welcome before jumping down to the floor and rubbing up against the person's legs. Long, slender fingers stroked the cat's back, Toby began to purr.

As the sofa dipped, Molly stirred, muttering incoherently to herself, probably thinking that it was just Toby coming to paw at her face. When a hand touched her, and not a paw, her eyes flew open. She gazed blearily up at the figure sitting beside her.

"Sherlock? You look different."

He smiled slightly, "Disguise."

She pushed herself up, wiping the sleep from her eyes, "You're … you're really here." She had reached out, cradling the side of his face with her hand.

He leaned in to her touch, his eyes closing, before he turned his head so that he could place a kiss upon her palm, "I'm here."

"But isn't it dangerous?"

His eyes opened and he looked at her, "Yes. Hence the disguise."

Without warning she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He held her close, rocking her slightly, nuzzling her hair with his nose, breathing in the scent of her. She tightened her hold on him.

"I didn't want you to spend Christmas alone." He murmured softly to her.

She sniffled; he could feel the fabric of his t-shirt growing wet. She was crying. He cupped her chin in his hand and lifted up her head in order to kiss away her tears.

"Please don't cry, Molly."

He kissed her on the lips then, holding her body as close to his as he could. She kissed him back, whimpering softly into his mouth as the kiss deepened and he eased her down onto her back, stretching himself out beside her.

"Oh how I've missed you!" She whispered breathlessly to him.

"I've missed you too." He brushed his nose against hers before kissing her again.

They slowly undressed each other, the room filling with soft sighs and happy moans as fingertips brushed over newly revealed skin. Once they were both entirely naked he put his mouth to use as much as his hands.

He was re-cataloguing in his Mind Palace every freckle and dip in her skin. Filing away the noises she made as he suckled on a nipple before dragging his tongue along the soft underside of her breast. He needed to keep these memories safely tucked away, so that when he left her again he could return to them when he was alone and missing her.

"Sherlock …"

Her voice broke through. He pulled his mouth away from her, he had been moving downwards toward her navel, and looked up at her. She cradled his face in his hands then pulled him up to her.

"Allow me. You deserve the attention more than I do."

He stared down at her for a few moments before silently nodding. She smiled and he allowed her to push him down onto his back so that she was now the one on top.

"Just relax …" She whispered softly.

His eyes dropped closed as she nipped at his jaw line with her teeth before leaving open-mouth kisses down the side of his neck, stopping when she reached his pulse point. She sucked on his skin there for a moment then continued to move downwards.

She lapped at each nipple in turn, dragging her teeth across each ever so slightly. She licked and kissed her way down his body, savouring the sounds of his ragged breathing and low groans.

When she reached his erect cock she wrapped her hand around the base of him and took the tip into her mouth. She pumped her hand up and down as she sucked on the head, dragging her tongue around him. He was moaning loudly now, his hands in her hair as she continued to work her mouth and hand upon his cock. She took more of him in her mouth, giving him a long drawn out suck, before releasing him from both her hand and mouth in order to drag her tongue up and down the length of him. Just as she was about to take him once more into her mouth he gave her hair a gentle pull; a warning.

She sat up, waiting for his breathing to grow steady once more. He opened his eyes and peered up at her. His face was beautifully flushed.

"Condom?"

She shook her head, "Still taking the pill."

He smiled, grateful for the fact that she held so much faith in him that she believed that he would always return to her. He would try his damndest to do so. He took her hand in his and gave her a gentle tug forward. She knew exactly what it was that he wanted.

She straddled his hips, positioning herself until she was directly above him. Taking his cock in her hand she eased herself down onto his length, sheathing him with her wet warmth. Their moans filled the room.

"God Molly, you feel incredible."

Her only reply was a whimper as she slowly began to ride him, crying out softly each time that she fully impaled herself onto his cock. He had her bum cupped in his hands, guiding her up and down him. She reached back and grabbed one of his hands, bringing it to her front, directly to where they were joined, brushing his fingers across her exposed clit.

A loud moan escaped her throat as she released his hand and grabbed tightly onto the cushion of the sofa, as she continued to move on top of him whilst he stroked her clit.

She tipped her body back slightly, changing the angle, continuing to moan loudly as he repeatedly cursed beneath his breath. When she reached back with her other hand to cup and stroke his bollocks he swore loudly, his hips bucking upwards, pressing the tip of his cock directly against her g-spot.

Molly screamed, her orgasm washing over her in full-force. She fell against him, and he cradled her in his arms, thrusting his hips upwards. After a few moments she dropped her hand back down and gave his bollocks another tender squeeze.

"Fuck!"

With another thrust of his hips he emptied himself inside of her. They held onto each other, both of them panting heavily. She had her face buried in his neck. Sherlock's mind was deliciously mute. He had never felt so at peace.

A short time later he eased them both onto their sides, reaching out blindly to grab the blanket that she always kept draped across the back of the sofa. Once they were both covered he curled himself around her. She hooked her leg up over his hip, her wet sex brushing up against his equally wet now-softened cock. There would be time for more of that later; he had all of tomorrow to spend with her, before he had to leave again. But for now, they both needed sleep.

He could feel her warm breath against his chest as she snuggled against him. He had one hand on the small of her back, the other slowly moving up and down her spinal column.

"Please Sherlock …" He heard her whisper, "Come home."

He placed a kiss upon her temple, holding her closer up against him, "I will, as soon as I can."

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

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**Don't know why exactly, but I totally have a thing for Sherlock coming back during his two years away and hiding out in Molly's flat ... heh ... **


	9. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

**I was scrolling through my Christmas playlist on my iTunes and came across this song and came up with this ;)**

**Rating: Teen**

* * *

><p>Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer<p>

_Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer__  
><em>_Has a very shiny nose__  
><em>_And if you ever saw it__  
><em>_You would even say it glows_

A loud sneeze erupted from the sofa of 221B, followed by a hacking cough. Toby made himself scarce as he dove out from underneath the sofa, disappearing down the hall into the bedroom.

Several tissues fell to the floor before a loud groan came from the curled up lump that was Molly Hooper. She was sick, had been for the passed three days and was quite tired of it already. Another sneeze erupted from her. She grabbed some more tissues and blew her nose five times. When she was finished she let out another groan.

The door downstairs opened and closed, followed by the sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs. Sherlock entered the flat, a bag in his hand.

"I bought the last three boxes. And another box of your favourite tea." He told her as he shrugged off his coat and unwound his scarf.

He approached the sofa, taking out the boxes of tissues and placing them on the table before her, keeping the box of tea in his hand, "How are you feeling?"

He only received a grunt in reply, before she said, "What, why are you looking at me like that?"

He had been peering at her, his expression telling her that he was trying to think of something.

"Isn't there a reindeer with a red nose? Some silly song they sing about him?"

Molly squinted up at him, "Rudolph." She croaked.

Sherlock smirked slightly, "Rudolph, yes that's it. I think I'm going to have to call you that now."

"I hate you."

He snorted and moved towards the kitchen, "Want me to heat up some of the soup Mrs. Hudson made for you?"

"Yes please."

Once the soup had been heated, and a cup of tea made for each of them, he returned to the sofa. She took the offered mug of tea and he placed the bowl of soup down on the coffee table. He sat down beside her and she snuggled against his shoulder.

"I think you're making progress. You haven't sneezed once since I got home." Sherlock noted.

"Mmm …"

"Rudolph." He muttered this below his breath, but she still managed to hear him, in spite of her clogged ears.

She gave the back of his head a good swat and he chuckled. After another sip of tea she put it down and took up the bowl of soup, "Call me that in public and I'll kill you and make it look like an accident."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, feigning fear, "Don't worry, I'd never do that … Rudolph."

She gave his arm a push.

"Eat your soup before it gets cold."

"Yes mother."

He glared at her from the corner of his eye and she flashed a cheeky smile at him before beginning to eat her soup. When she was done with both her soup and her tea she snuggled back up against him. He lifted up his arm so that she could lean against his chest.

"Nap time?" He questioned.

"Nap time." She parroted.

"Wait a moment." He gently eased her off of him and got up and went to their bedroom.

She leaned back against the sofa, yawning loudly as she dabbed at her sore nose with a tissue. He returned with her pillow and a blanket.

"Lay down." He told her.

She did so, pressing her back against the cool cushions of the sofa. He stretched himself out alongside her and covered them both with the blanket, placing the pillow down so that they could both rest their heads upon it. She snuggled into him and he wrapped his arms about her.

"Sweet dreams … Rudolph."

She dug her nails into his chest, although it didn't do much through the fabric, "Cut that out." She whimpered.

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, "Sweet dreams, my Molly."

"Mmmm … that's better."

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

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**:)**


	10. I'll be Home for Christmas

**I'm sorry. My brain thought of this and wouldn't let go!**

**Rating: Teen**

* * *

><p>I'll be Home for Christmas<p>

* * *

><p><em>I'm dreamin' tonight<em>

_Of a place I love_

_Even more than I usually do_

_I'll be home for Christmas_

_If only in my dreams_

Sherlock was curled up in an alleyway in Morocco, looking more like a homeless man than a Consulting Detective. It was Christmas Eve, but it did not feel like Christmas at all to him.

There wasn't a Christmas party at 221B that John forced him to have. There wasn't any of Mrs. Hudson's punch to be avoided. And there wasn't a particularly perfectly wrapped red package addressed to him, waiting to be opened.

No, there were no signs of Christmas about him at all. No fairy lights, or decorated trees, and there were no carolers!

He had never been much of a celebrator of Christmas, minus the use of the reference to the particular day when he had a thrilling murder case, but in spite of this, he found the lack of Christmas about him to be rather saddening.

Yes, Sherlock Holmes, the man who constantly spout that he didn't believe in sentiment, felt saddened that he was spending Christmas alone.

He knew exactly who he wished to be spending Christmas with; a woman with brown eyes, a sweet smile and a voice that haunted his Mind Palace. No matter how hard he tried to keep her at bay. It was no use; she was never going to leave.

He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands beneath his armpits. He had tried so very hard to convince her that he wouldn't be any good for her, keeping her at arms length, bringing her down with his deductions, but still she held on to the belief that he was a good man and was capable of loving and being loved.

It wasn't until that day in the lab, when she had told him that she didn't count, that he came to realize how much she truly did mean to him. He had been horrified by the thought that she didn't see how important she truly was.

He knew that when he returned to London, (and he would return!), that there would be many things he would need to say to her, to tell her. He hoped that by next Christmas he would be there with her, so that neither one of them would have to spend it alone.

It was the image of her in that tight-fitting black dress (the very one that had so unfortunately brought about his cruel - and wrong - deductions) that he fell asleep with in his mind. She didn't exactly stay in the dress for very long though.

_If only in my dreams_

* * *

><p><strong>.<strong>

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**Not entirely sure why I chose Morocco, but I did ... anyway, this song is rather sad ... and I thought it would be rather fitting for this idea ... eesh, I keep writing for angsty fics then fluffy, sorry! **


	11. The Christmas Blues

**My strange little take on THAT Christmas party at 221B. Starts off angsty, but turns smutty … heh …**

**Rating: Mature**

* * *

><p>The Christmas Blues<p>

_When somebody wants you__  
><em>_Somebody needs you__  
><em>_Christmas is a joy of joy__  
><em>_But friends, when you're lonely__  
><em>_You'll find that it's only__  
><em>_A thing for little girls and little boys__You'll know the way I'm feeling__  
><em>_When you love and you lose__  
><em>_I guess I've got the Christmas blues__  
><em>-_  
><em>

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

How could she have been so stupid?

She never hated herself more than at this very moment. Giving the silver bow in her hair a harsh tug she flung it to the ground and stomped passed it towards her kitchen.

What could have possessed her into thinking that this would have worked? That she wouldn't just end up hurt in the end? Which is exactly what did happen! She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout, she wanted to throw things at the wall and hear the satisfying smash. But no, she wouldn't allow herself to be that way. That was being ridiculous. Instead, she was going to have a final glass of wine, take a shower to remove the makeup she had put on, and then she was going to put on her comfiest, rattiest pair of pyjamas and get into bed and snuggle with Toby. The only stable male in her life.

After pouring the wine she grabbed up the glass and made her way out of her kitchen and towards her bedroom, Toby at her heels. She placed the glass down on her dresser and proceeded to try and unzip her dress. Clearly zipping it up was far easier than unzipping it.

She swore loudly, continuing to struggle. It would seem that this night was only going to get worse, not better. With a frustrated sigh she sat upon the bed, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Molly."

She jumped to her feet, "Christ Sherlock! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

He sniffed, standing in the doorway of her bedroom, "Scientifically unlikely."

She crossed her arms over her chest, "Why are you here?"

He stepped into her room, "Is my presence unwanted?"

"What do you think?"

He continued to move forward, not stopping until he was standing directly in front of her, "I did say I was sorry."

"Yes. I know. I'm very proud of you for that, but honestly Sherlock, did you have to take it so far? I felt like an idiot."

He sighed, "It just … sort of happened. I saw the way Greg was looking at you … in this dress and …"

"You reacted like a typical male."

Sherlock grimaced, "It would appear so." He ran his fingertips up her arm, then down, not stopping until he reached her hand, lacing their fingers together.

Molly stared down at their joined hands, "How the hell did Irene manage to get that sound onto your phone?"

"She has her ways."

Molly snorted, "That was quite the icing on the cake. I could have done without that. Just adding insult upon insult."

"That wasn't my fault. I can't control when she texts me."

She looked up at him with a weary gaze, "You really are so daft sometimes. Why do you keep it on your phone? Why not just delete it?"

Sherlock's mouth twitched slightly, "I like watching John's reaction. It's rather amusing."

Molly rolled her eyes and stepped away from him, moving over to her wine.

Sherlock watched her for a moment, "I can go if you want, I don't have to stay. I just … wanted to make sure that you weren't still mad at me."

Molly fingered the stem of the wine glass before turning back around, "No, don't go. Just answer this one question, was it really just jealousy that made you say all of those things?"

He stepped back over to her, "Yes. Jealousy and frustration. Irene is being extremely uncooperative, I was feeling rather annoyed at the time and … my aggravation poured out on to you. I am sorry. Please believe me." He had brought up his hands and placed them on her shoulders, massaging her slightly with his fingertips.

"I do believe you. But if this is going to work, if we are going to be together, we're going to have to figure something out. I know that you don't want anyone to know about us, and that's fine, I rather like the idea of it just being the two of us for right now … but we need to set some kind of rules, or something."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, his brows coming together, "What do you mean exactly?"

"Ease up on the deductions for one."

He stared passed her for a moment, "I can try."

"Well, that's better than nothing."

His gaze returned to her, "Anything else?"

"At the moment I can't exactly think of anything, but I'll let you know when I do."

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

She slowly nodded her head. He smiled, and moved his arms until they were wrapped around her. She laid her head on his chest. They stood like this for several moments.

Molly's voice broke through the silence that had fallen, "Can you help me out of this dress?"

"Absolutely."

She chuckled as she stepped back out of his embrace and turned around so that he could unzip her. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips as he pushed it down and it pooled at her feet. He unhooked her bra, and it soon joined the dress on the floor, leaving her clad only in her knickers. She let out a squeak when his hands came to rest on her hips before sliding forward across her abdomen, his fingertips slipping beneath the black lace of her knickers. He pulled her close up against him, his chest pressed into her bare back.

Neither spoke a word as he began to trail open-mouth kisses down her neck, stopping to suckle a red mark upon her shoulder before nipping lightly at her skin with his teeth. A low moan escaped her throat as he slid his hand further down into her knickers, a finger dipping between her folds.

"So wet for me already?" He murmured against her neck.

She only let out a whimper in reply as he circled her clit with the pad of his finger.

"God, Molly! The things you do to me." He panted into her ear, pressing his hips up against her arse so that she could feel how hard he was for her.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, reaching up with her hand to card her fingers through his hair, "Why are you still dressed?"

"Mmmm … good question!"

He pulled his hand out from her knickers and spun her about, taking his finger into his mouth and sucking it clean. She moved her hands to the front of his shirt and began to undo the buttons. When he leaned forward and took her breast into his mouth, lathing her nipple with his tongue, she let out a low whine.

"Sherlock! You're not helping!"

He chuckled, the vibrations of his mouth around her breast causing her to moan as her fingers fumbled around the buttons. He released her breast and straightened, bringing his own hands to his shirt front. The two of them had his shirt on the floor in a matter of seconds. He stole a few kisses from her as they both struggled to undo his trousers. He kicked off his shoes, his trousers soon joining the pile of clothes. Unlike her, he wasn't wearing any pants. After removing his socks he pushed her up against the wall, now entirely naked. He pressed his body up against hers, his erection hot against her belly.

She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her deeply. He pushed her knickers aside, not bothering to take them off, before hooking her leg up around his hip and sliding his length into her. He rather enjoyed the sensation of the fabric brushing up against him each time that he thrust into her.

Molly clung tightly to him, her nails digging into his back as he entered her again and again. He dropped his head back down and mouthed at each of her breasts until they were both red from his kisses, leaving a love bite on each. He lifted up her other leg so that she could wrap both around his waist, allowing him to enter her deeper, and harder.

They kissed, moaning into each others mouths as the sensations of their joined bodies began to build towards fruition. She dropped her hands down to his arse, cupping him, pulling him closer to her with each thrust.

She came with a wild cry, and he soon followed. They stayed there against the wall, panting heavily for several moments. He then wrapped his arms about her and carried her to the bed, gently laying her down as he slipped himself out of her.

He collapsed upon the bed beside her, still breathing heavily, his eyes falling closed. She turned towards him, brushing his sweaty curls away from his forehead. He reached up and took her hand, kissing the palm before pulling her directly up against him.

Molly nuzzled the underside of his jaw with her nose, "If this is what's going to happen every time that you get jealous … mmmm … than I think I'll have to try and make you jealous more often."

She let out a shriek as he rolled her onto her back nipping at her pulse point with his teeth.

"Minx." Sherlock lapped at the now red mark with his tongue as she giggled.

"I guess the song is wrong then …"

He lifted his head and looked down at her, "Hmmm?"

"I don't have the Christmas blues …"

He blinked for a few moments then shook his head, lying back down beside her, "I did warn you."

Molly turned so that her body curved against his, "I know Sherlock, this won't be easy, for either one of us. But I'm willing to try, and I know that you are too."

He turned his head, the tip of his nose brushing against hers, "I can't guarantee that I won't ever hurt you again, like I did tonight."

She placed a gentle kiss upon his mouth, "I know. I don't expect you to change Sherlock; you are … who you are."

He moved until his head was lying between her breasts, "I definitely don't deserve you."

Molly moved her hands to his curls, gently massaging his scalp, "Yeah you do."

Sherlock shifted his head until his nose was brushing up against her skin, "I do need you." His voice was muffled slightly, but Molly still heard him.

"I need you too."

_When somebody wants you__  
><em>_Somebody needs you__  
><em>_Christmas is a joy of joy_

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><p><strong><em>.<em>**

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	12. Christmas Time is Here!

**Here's the last one! Number 12! Christmas with the Holmes' :) Fluffy parent!lock with a smidgen of Sherlock's Mum and Dad and some Mythea thrown in. This turns smutty and I didn't originally intend it to, whoops!**

**Rating: Mature**

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><p>Christmas Time is Here<p>

_Snowflakes in the air  
>Carols everywhere<br>Olden times and ancient rhymes  
>Of love and dreams to share<em>

_Sleigh bells in the air  
>Beauty everywhere<br>Yuletide by the fireside  
>And joyful memories there<em>

_Christmas time is here  
>Families drawing near<br>Oh, that we could always see  
>Such spirit through the year<em>

Music was playing softly; the only light in the room coming from the decorated tree and the glow of the fire. Sherlock and Molly were curled up together on his parent's sofa. Sherlock had Molly's hand clasped in his, their fingers laced together, his thumb brushing over her wedding ring. She let out a happy sigh and snuggled further up against him, her eyes falling closed. He laid his cheek upon the top of her head.

"Sherlock …" Her voice was no more than a whisper.

"Mmm?"

"Did you ever imagine this, any of this?"

He chuckled slightly, the sound rumbling in his chest beneath her ear, "No. I never imagined anything quite like this."

"Did you imagine anything at all?"

"No … I only hoped."

She tilted her head back; her eyes now open as she gazed up at her husband, "Are you happy?"

He released her hand and brought it up to cradle the side of her face, his fingertips brushing over her cheek, "More than I ever believed I would be."  
>They shared a gentle kiss, but just as it was beginning to deepen the sound of approaching footsteps forced them to pull apart. Sherlock's mother entered the room, looking slightly regretful.<p>

"Grandma and Grandpa won't cut it tonight, they keep asking for mummy and daddy." She told them.

Molly smiled as she stood up, and Sherlock followed her. They made their way upstairs to his bedroom. As they walked down the hall and passed Mycroft's bedroom, Molly's smile widened when she caught a glimpse of Mycroft and Anthea sat upon the bed with their son between them, reading him a story.

Glancing back at Sherlock, she suppressed a giggle when she saw the look of shock upon his face. She took his hand and gave it a tug towards his room.

"Must delete that image as soon as possible." He was muttering beneath his breath.

"Sherlock don't, it was sweet."

He grimaced, "Sweet and Mycroft do not go together."

She rolled her eyes, biting back her comment as they stepped into his bedroom and closed the door behind them as they were greeted joyfully by their son and daughter.

"Mummy! Daddy!"

Sherlock and Molly approached the bed. Their son, a perfect miniature of Sherlock, flung himself into his mother's arms, just as their daughter, a little replica of Molly, jumped into her father's arms. They all settled down upon the bed.

"Read us a story please!" Rory pleaded, curling into his mother's chest.

"Tell us about one of your cases daddy!" Julia tugged on the lapels of her father's suit jacket.

A short time later their two little ones were fast asleep. Molly tucked the blanket around them, placing a gentle kiss upon their heads before moving over to where Sherlock was standing. She put her arms about his waist, and he held her close. They both stood there silently, watching their children sleep.

"Our sweet, little twins." Molly murmured.

Sherlock let out a soft snort, "They're not always sweet … if you would recall the incident in the kitchen last week!"

Molly dropped down and gave his bum a tweak with her fingers, "That's because they are your son and daughter as much as they are mine!"

He reached back and grabbed her hand, leading her from the bedroom and closing the door silently behind them. They returned downstairs, once more settling upon the sofa in front of the fire. Sherlock's father had just fed it a few logs, thus it was glowing brightly. He was sat in a chair, eyeing the fire with a smile upon his face.

"Where are Mycroft and Anthea?" Molly asked him.

"Out, went for a walk." He replied.

Sherlock's mother came into the room bearing a tray of eggnog, "In this bitter cold? Utter madness."

"Probably went for a shag in the barn." Sherlock muttered into Molly's ear, she elbowed him in reply.

They each took the offered glass of eggnog from his mother. Molly sipped hers slowly; Sherlock eyed his derisively, and decided against it. He had never been an admirer of the thick, creamy drink.

A short while later his parents retired to bed. Molly's eyes were beginning to droop closed when the sound of the back door opening and closing pulled her from her reverie. Mycroft and Anthea walked passed the room as they made their way upstairs, their faces flushed.

"Told you." Sherlock mock-whispered.

Molly elbowed him again. Silence fell for a few minutes; the only sound was that of the dying fire, the music having been turned off long ago. Sherlock had thought that Molly had fallen asleep when suddenly her voice broke through the quiet.

"How come you don't ever wear bowties like the ones your dad wears?"

Sherlock exhaled loudly, "Atrocious things."

Molly let out a soft giggle, "I like them, 'bowties are cool.'" She could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"Your love for that ridiculous show about an alien who travels in a blue box will never cease to astound me."

"Just look at if from the same reason you watch crap telly … I enjoy it!"

He leaned forward, placing his untouched eggnog on the coffee table before kicking off his shoes and pulling his legs up onto the sofa. Molly knew exactly what he intended to do and slid her self forward slightly so that he could stretch himself out. Once he had done so Molly followed suit, then turned her body around so that she was facing him.

Sherlock brought his hand up and cradled the back of her head before kissing her deeply, nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth before parting for air.

"I enjoy your company far more than any amount of crap telly." He told her firmly.

Molly smiled up at him and pulled him in for another kiss, "And you are far more handsome than any of the regenerations of The Doctor."

He gave a weary sigh, "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"

"Yes."

"I think I'm going to have to limit your intake of Doctor Who."

Molly pretended to pout, "But Rory and Julia love that show!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Enough!" He all but growled, grabbing her about the waist and pulling her up against him before kissing her again.

He was certain he could feel her smiling against his lips. Reaching down he gave her bum a little pinch, in retaliation for what she had done to him earlier. She squealed into his mouth, pulling away, panting slightly. He smiled cheekily at her as she fixed him with a glare.

"Arse!"

"Mmm … yes, I do love it so." He cupped her bum in his hand, squeezing the tender flesh through the fabric of her trousers.

She could feel him growing hard against her, "Sherlock! We're not shagging on your parents sofa!"

He pouted as she pushed herself away from him and sat up.

"Then let's go to bed."

She looked at him over her shoulder, "A Christmas Eve shag?" She had an eyebrow raised.

He shrugged, "Start a new tradition."

"You hate traditions."

"Not ones involving sex, I don't."

She shook her head, chucking softly then stood up. When she began to make her away out of the room, but noticed that he wasn't following, she stopped and turned around and looked at him.

"Aren't you coming?"

He jumped up and quickly followed after, "I intend to, yes, but only once my cock is buried deep inside of you." He whispered this hoarsely into her ear.

"God Sherlock!" She hissed, stumbling up the steps.

His laughter rumbled in his chest as he grabbed her about the hips, helping to keep her steady. He could hear her mumbling beneath her breath as they made their way down the hall, passed the room where their children lay sleeping.

Once in their bedroom, with the door shut and locked, they began to undress. As soon as they were both naked he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, gently laying her down with her head upon the pillows.

She now lay beneath him, as he kneeled over her, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes. His eyes trailed slowly over her. Her body had changed since giving birth to their son and daughter, her curves softening, her belly no longer quite as flat as it once had been. Her breasts were different too, their size had changed and they sagged a bit, but Sherlock still loved them. Loved every part of her.

He had changed as well, his once lithe body no longer quite so thin. Molly's insistence on him eating, even while working cases, kept him at a healthier weight. His once dark curls were now tinged with a faint hint of grey. Molly had told him that she liked it, that it made him look distinguished. There were a few more wrinkles upon his face, they crinkled when he smiled, a much more common occurrence now.

Dropping his head down to her stomach he peppered her skin with kisses before dragging the tip of his tongue along the scar across her belly. It was faint now, barely visible accept to those who knew it was there. Her hand was in his hair, her fingers carding through his curls. He could smell her arousal.

Instead of continuing downwards, as he was often want to do, he moved upwards, lapping at each of her pebbled nipples before bringing himself fully up until his face was hovering directly over hers.

"Not tonight." He answered her silent question, "I want to be inside of you, now."

She nodded, parting her legs for him. He leaned back until he was kneeling, and lifted up her legs, bringing her knees together. He gently eased back her legs until they were over her shoulder, nearly touching the mattress. After repositioning himself, her parted folds glistening, he slid his hardened-length into her. He kissed her to drown out her moan as his cock filled her in entirety.

"God Molly!" He panted dropping his head down to press it into her neck, reveling in the fact that after all of these years she still felt so tight around him, and that he had never bored with the way her body made him feel.

Molly turned her head, nuzzling his face with the tip of her nose, "I love you so much." She whispered to him.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss, the pair of them moaning in unison as he began to move his cock in and out of her. He placed his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes as he continued to thrust into her wet heat. She slipped one of her arms over the back of her legs, right where they creased at the knee, holding them down, whilst with the other she clutched tightly at his shoulder. Continuing to moan his name and telling him how good he felt.

He shifted himself forward slightly, her breasts brushing up against his chest as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. He cupped her bum in one hand, massaging the supple flesh and with the other he rolled a nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

"So close!" She whimpered, her nails digging little crescent moons into his skin.

Kissing her once more, their tongues dancing together, he took a hold of her hips and began to enter her as hard as he could, knowing how much she liked it when he did this. She was moaning wildly against his mouth, and when he could feel her tightening around his cock he felt his own orgasm hit. They parted their kiss, panting against each others lips. He gave a few slower, gentler thrusts before growing still.

After a few moments of catching their breath he leaned back slightly, making sure to keep himself inside of her, but back just enough so that she could lower her legs, bringing them down to either side of his hips. He nestled his body against hers, loving the feeling of them staying connected like this.

She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him deeply. They lay curled up together, staring into each others eyes as their racing hearts began to slow down to a more normal pace.

"Thank you, Molly."

Her brows furrowed, "For what?"

He smiled, brushing the tip of her nose with his, "For loving me, for never giving up on me, for accepting me as I am."

She kissed him again, "You're very welcome Sherlock."

The clock down the hall began to chime, twelve times.

"Happy Christmas, Molly." He kissed her gently.

"Happy Christmas, Sherlock."

He tucked himself under her chin as she wrapped her arms about him, and slowly they drifted off to sleep.

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><p><strong>.<strong>

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**I'm the daughter of a twin so … I like to throw twins into my stories ;) And how funny that I mention Doctor Who in this story when it's my 12th one? HA! And no, I didn't purposely call their son Rory because of Rory from Doctor Who, I actually chose that name because it's my cousins name and I like it ;)**

****HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! I love you all! Hope you have a wonderful Christmas and Happy New Year :D****


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